The Truth of the Phantom of the Opera
by PhantomElphaba
Summary: Christine knows alot more about the Phantom than anyone imagined. There is going to be a lovely surprise in chapters 2 and 3. Rated for languange and suggestive material, both in later chapters. ErikChristine, majorly. Category changed at request of revie
1. More Than Meets the Eyes

**I'm ba-a-ack!  
****Hello, everyone! Long time no see, eh? Lol. This is, I think, the best story idea I have ever had. Now if I could just finish it. Anyway, I guess by now you'd like a summary. Well, if I must, I must…  
****Summary:  
****Everyone knows that Christine had not even the slightest notion that her "Angel of Music" was really the infamous Phantom of the Opera, right? Well, everyone…was wrong. She knew he was the Phantom, all right. In fact, she knew him far better than anyone could have possibly imagined.  
****I don't want to give too much away, but I will tell you this: there will be a surprise in Chapter 3. If thou wanteth me to update and _get_ to that loverly surprise, than thou shalt have to review…eth. rotfl.  
****Oh, and, I'm really sorry, but I had to take out "The Angel of Music," that Christine and Meg sing, because it just didn't work with the story line. Sry. **

Chapter 1:  
More Than Meets the Eyes

Christine ran down the small spiral staircase, chattering excitedly with her best friend, Meg Giry. The stage buzzed with activity as stagehands, actors, and dancers ran around getting ready for rehearsal. At the bottom of the stairs, the two girls raced to a ballet bar where other dancers were warming up under the watchful eye of Mme. Giry, Meg's mother and the ballet instructor. They slipped into line and immediately began warming up, hoping that they wouldn't get caught.  
"Girls…" came the voice of Mme. Giry. So much for not getting caught.  
"We had a slight costume problem. Forgive us for being late," Christine said as she and Meg bowed their heads slightly. Mme. Giry smiled gently, and as the girls looked up, she nodded and they continued to warm up. Her smile faded, however, when a shrill voice jolted her out of her thoughts. Carlotta was singing a song that she was to perform that night. Well…wailing was more the correct term, really. Suddenly, three men stepped onto the stage, interrupting Carlotta.  
"Rehearsals, as you can see, are underway for a new production of Shalimar's_ Hannibal. _Mme. Giry recognized the voice of the man who was speaking- Monsieur Leveffre, owner and manager of the Opera Populáire. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, thank you. As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these are all true."  
"Ah-hah!" Carlotta declared, pointing her finger at Ubaldo Piangi, the lead tenor. '_Pay up_,' the look on her face clearly said. Indeed, many actors, dancers, and stagehands had bet each other on whether of not M. Leveffre really was retiring or not- you could tell who'd lost money from the barely audible groans heard around the stage.  
"It is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populáire," M. Leveffre continued, pointing to each man as he announced their names, "M. Richard Firmin, and M. Gilles Andre. I'm sure you've read of their fortune recently amassed in the junk business."  
"Scrap metal," M. Andre corrected, "actually."  
"And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron," said M. Firmin, "the Viscount DeChagny.  
"Oh, my God," Christine muttered to Meg upon seeing the young patron. "It's Raoul. Before my father died. At the house by the sea. We played together a lot and the egotistical jerk thought that we were sweethearts, or something."  
"But, Christine, he's soooooo handsome."  
"Ugh." Christine smacked Meg hard upside the head. The girl was a total slut, and Christine bloody well knew it. '_Actually, now that I've smacked her," _Christine thought smugly, "_she can have him."  
_"My parents and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world-renowned Opera Populáire," he told the crowd on the stage.  
'_Suck up_,' Christine thought, as she watched the pansy being introduced to Carlotta and Piangi.  
"An honor, Signor. I believe I'm keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your great triumph. My apologies, monsieur." Christine stuck her tongue out at Raoul as he passed by. She quickly returned her attention to dancing, because Mme. Giry had ushered them onto the stage. Christine smiled as she heard Mme. Giry talking to the managers about her.  
Finally, the rehearsal was finished, and Christine breathed a sigh of relief. Carlotta, however, had found something to complain about, as usual.  
"Alla' they want isa' dancing!" she shouted. Christine turned to Meg, and the two succeeded in drowning her out for quite sometime, until their conversation was drowned out. Carlotta was now wailing a song for the managers.

_Think of me  
__Think of me fondly  
__When we've said goodbye  
__Remember me  
__Once in a while  
__Please promise me you'll try _

Christine covered her ears, trying to avoid becoming deaf. Suddenly, something on the catwalk above her head caught her attention. Looking up, she grinned wickedly as she recognized the figure, cloaked in black, who was walking toward a post where a back drop, which was directly above Carlotta, was tied. Christine watched the figure untie the backdrop, stifling her giggles, until she could control it no longer; while everyone screamed as the large canvas fell, pinning Carlotta to the ground, Christine cackled with delight. Her joy was ended, however, when Meg grabbed her arm.  
"He's here. It's the Phantom of the Opera," Meg whispered excitedly to Christine.  
'_No, it's Erik, _'Christine thought, shoving Meg off of her. She watched as Erik left, thinking about her "Angel of Music," until her thoughts were broken by Carlotta shoving past her in one of her usual tempers. It took her a minute to realize that the managers were panicking about the fact that Carlotta had left and there was no one to take her place. Or so _they_ thought.  
"A full house, Andre! We shall have to refund a full _house_!"  
"Christine Daae could sing it, sir," Mme. Giry said, interrupting the mangers' panic.  
"What, a chorus girl?" M. Andre inquired. "Don't be silly."  
"I have been taking lessons, monsieur," Christine told the man, offended by his doubt in her. "My tutor is very good." Well, she wasn't really telling the entire truth. Her tutor was beyond compare.  
"Who?" Andre suddenly asked her. Christine hesitated, for Erik had made her swear not to tell who was teaching her.  
"I--I don't know his name, monsieur." Mme. Giry, sensing her discomfort, stood beside her and put her hand on her shoulder.  
"Let her sing for you, monsieur. She has been well taught."  
"Very well," Andre sighed, motioning for Christine to come forward. Christine did so, taking a calming breath as M. Reyer started up the orchestra.  
"Andre, this is doing nothing for my nerves."  
"Well, she's very pretty." Christine smiled as she sang.

_Think of me  
__Think of me fondly  
__When we've said goodbye  
__Remember me  
__Once in a while  
__Please promise me you'll try  
__When you find  
__That once again you long  
__To take your heart back  
__And be free  
__If you ever find a moment  
__Spare a thought for me _

The new managers approved and immediately had Carlotta's costume finished and fitted for Christine. The rest of the day rushed by in a whirl, and, before she knew it, Christine was standing on the stage, in front of a full audience, singing with all she had.

_We never said  
__Our love was evergreen  
__Or as unchanging as the seas  
__But if you can still remember  
__Stop and think of me  
__Think of all the things  
__We've shared and seen  
__Don't think about the way  
__Things might have been  
__Think of me  
__Think of me waking  
__Silent and resigned  
__Imagine me  
__Trying too hard to put  
__You from my mind  
__Recall those days  
__Look back on all those times  
__Think of the things we'll never do  
__There will never be a day  
__When I won't think of you! _

The audience stood and applauded as Christine basked in the limelight. Suddenly, a voice caught her attention.  
"Bravo!" Christine looked up in time to see Raoul stand and leave his box. No, correction-- _Erik's box_. She quickly, however, returned her attention to her song.

_Flower's fade  
__The fruits of summer fade  
__They have their seasons  
__So do we  
__But please promise me that sometimes  
__You will think…  
__…Of me! _

She was thrilled that she received a standing ovation. The second the curtain dropped, she raced to her dressing room, eagerly anticipating the message her teacher would have left there.

* * *

**WHEE! I've finally gotten the first chapter of this fic up and posted. I'm really looking forward to the rest of this story. The 'message' thingy is referring to the rose. You'll fully understand in the next chapter.  
****The revealing of my devious little secret is much anticipated -- by me -- and I have some… wicked things planned for Christine and Erik. Mainly a little mischievous manager-terrorizing. Phantom-style, of course. :Grins wickedly.: This…is going to be _fun_.  
****Oh, and to anyone who may actually…:cough, gag, choke, sputter, sputter.: _care_ about Raoul and -- ugh -- Carlotta, there shall be an immense amount of delightful Raoul-and-Carlotta-Bashing.  
****Erik- Oh, my favorite sport:swings bat at Raoul, who is dangling by his feet from the ceiling. Raoul screams a muffled scream -- thanks to the multiple handkerchiefs stuffed in his mouth and the one tied around his face to keep said handkerchiefs from being spit out -- as the bat lands painfully on his gut, and Erik swings again.:  
****IKSF- I know. Mine, too. :IKSF is delivering the same fate to Carlotta, also dangling by her feet from the ceiling. IKSF continues to brutally beat the stupid Italian pig.: Review, and we shall continue to beat them mercilessly. Both laugh manically as their victims scream their muffled screams.:  
****Erik and IKSF- REVIEW! **


	2. The Fop and The Phantom

**AAAAAH! Sorry. Sorry. I know I haven't updated in a while. Actually, I kinda' got pulled out of Phantom, and into the world of Wicked. Oh, well. I'm going to try to get this stroy up and finished, because I realize how many people like it. Yay! Anyway, here's the much-awaited update.**

**Also, I have changed my name.**

**

* * *

**

Chapter 2:  
The Fop and the Phantom

"Little Lotte, let her mind wander." The sudden voice made Christine cringe. "Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or shoes?'"

"Raoul..." Christine muttered. The Fop continued obliviously.

"Piss off, Raoul." She turned in time to see the pretty-boy start.

"What did you just say to me?"

_"She said, 'Piss off!'" _said a voice behind the viscount. Raoul spun on his heel to see who else was in the room. But there was no one there. Christine stifled a giggle; not only had she heard the voice, but she know who it belonged to. And that they were not in the room.

"I'm sorry," Christine said, fiegning a sudden headache. "I'm just tired."

"Oh...well...you sure you don't want to get some supper?" Christine nodded. "Oh...okay." Raoul turned and walked slowly out the door. The minute Christine heard the door click shut behind him, she sprang out of her chair and locked it behind him.. Leaning up against the door, Christine put her head in her hands and started shaking with laughter. After she calmed down, she took her hands away from face and examined her left one.

"He has to be blind, to completely miss it," she said to herself, fingering the plain gold ring on her third finger. She sighed, turning her attention to the rose on her vanity. Erik had tied a black ribbon around it. He wanted her to come down to his house on the lake, the moment she was alone. After changing into a white, lacy night gown, she went to the full-size mirror opposite the door, slid it open, and stepped into the hidden passage, being certain to close the mirror behind her.

Christine walked down the very familiar corridor, until she came to a turn. She rounded the corner, and saw a man, dressed completely in black, standing by a black horse.

"Erik!" She called out to the man. At the sound of his name, he turned and raced to Christine. When he reached her, Erik swept her into his arms, spun her around, and kissed her. After a moment, they pulled apart, and Erik took Christine's hand's in his

"Come," he said in a voice just above a whisper. He led her to the horse, helped her onto it, and then began leading it toward the lake. Christine was ancy the entire ride; she couldn't stand silence, especially between her and Erik. When they reached the lake, she jumped off the horse, loosing her balance as she did so. Erik grabbed her elbow to help steady her. He smiled.

"Be careful," he said, pulling her into a brief hug before helping her into the boat. He the then got in, picked a pole, and pushed the boat off, steering them toward the underground home.

When they finally hit the shore at the house underground, Christine stepped gracefully from the boat to the ground, turning backas Erik followed. When he had put the pole back in the boat, he took Christine by the hand, and led her to a doll-house-sized model of the Opera Populaire. On the stage of the model stood a miniature version of Christine, wearing a replica of the dress she had changed out of only minutes before. Erik picked up the miniature.

"You did very well, my dear," he said to Christine. "Everything's going according to plan, and I think they truly believe your naivety. But now," he said, putting the miniature back in its place. "We must deal with this viscount."

"Any ideas, Erik?" Christine asked, grinning.

"As a matter of fact," he said, returning her grin, "I have."

---------

About an hour-and-a-half later, everything had been planned. In short, Christine was to pretend to be terrified of Erik, and allow the Viscount de Chagny to think she loved him. Erik, meanwhile, would be allowed to terrify the managers for one more day before "dissapearing" for three months, during which time, he would finish his new opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_, giving it to the managers at the annual Masquerade Ball on New Year's.

"Erik," Christine said, laying her hand on his. "Sing to me. Like you did the first time you brought me here." Erik smiled, took Christine's hands in his, and began singing softly:

_Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation . . .  
Darkness stirs and  
wakes imagination . . .  
Silently the senses  
abandon their defences . . ._

_Slowly, gently  
night unfurls its splendour . . .  
Grasp it, sense it -  
tremulous and tender . . .  
Turn your face away  
from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -  
and listen to  
the music of the night . . . _

Close your eyes  
and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes,  
let your spirit  
start to soar!  
And you'll live  
as you've never  
lived before . . .

Softly, deftly,  
music shall surround you . . .  
Feel it, hear it,  
closing in around you . . .  
Open up your mind,  
let your fantasies unwind,  
in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight -  
the darkness of  
the music of the night . . .

Let your mind  
start a journey through a  
strange new world!  
Leave all thoughts  
of the world  
you knew before!  
Let your soul  
Take you where you  
long to be !  
Only then  
can you belong  
to me . . .

Floating, falling,  
sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me  
savour each sensation!  
Let the dream begin,  
let your darker side give in  
to the power of the music that I write -  
the power of the music of the night . . .

Erik led Christine to the swan-shaped bed and pulled her into a tender kiss. Christine pulled away after a moment. Erik looked at her, bewildered.

"What's wrong, Christine?" Christine hesitated, and then took a step back.

"It's just that, in a few months,our lives will be changed forever." Erik was only more confused by her words. Christine smiled, took his hand, and gently laid it on her stomach. Her smile grew wider at his continued confusion. "I'm pregnant, Erik." Erik's eyes widened.

"Are...are you certain?" Christine nodded.

"Absolutely." Erik laughed happily and pulled Christine into an embrace. "Oh, Erik," she sighed. "I can't imagine anyone but you being my husband."

* * *

**SURPRISE! Betcha didn't see that coming. I told ya' there was going to be a surprise in the second chapter. So did you get what the whole message-thingy was about? If you didn't, you either need glasses, or you're just plain stupid. Also there was a reference from this awesome movie called "Drop-Dead Fred" in this chapter. If you catch it and tell me in your review, I'll give you a treat. And, since you guys gave me such good reviews, Erik and I shall continue beating people mercilessly. I remain, reviewers,**

**Your obedient author,  
PE  
(PhantomElphaba)**


	3. Notes

Hey, guys! Thank you all so much for your loverly reviews. This story has been moved to the book section, because some reviewers suggested it. However, it is based on the movie. So, yeah…

**Also, thank you so much for your patience. School got started and...Well, read my fic "Tango: High School" if you wanna know what my life's been like. Lol. **

**You will notice that, when they are singing _Notes_, several lines have been cut out. Please do not point that out in your review, as I have already done so. Also, the reason I did that was that it just helped the story flow better.**

**Also, when they're singing, focus will shift from the singers to Christine/Erik. If they're singing -- as in, it's on the soundtrack -- it is not indented. If I wrote it, then it is indented. Got it?**

**Disclaimer: It's _mine _:Phans glare at her: Hey, I can dream, can't I? No, sadly, it's not mine.**

**Chapter 3:**

**Notes**

When Christine awoke the next morning, she could hear the monkey-shaped music box Erik had made as a wedding gift for her four months ago. Smiling, she reached for his arm and felt…nothing. She sat up and looked around, and, at first, saw no sign of her husband. Then, something white on the floor caught her eye. She lay across the bed and, in a very unlady-like position, grabbed the object. It was Erik's mask. He never went anywhere outside of the lair without it on.

By this time, the music box had stopped playing, and she listened intently. At first, she heard nothing, but after a moment, she distinctly heard the sound of a quill scratching on paper, and, beneath that, a voice, muttering, which she recognized as Erik's. Christine slid her feet into her slippers, pulled her robe on over her nightgown, and walked out of the bedroom to see what Erik was up to.

Glancing around at the entrance to the underground lair, Christine quickly located a figure, dressed in black, sitting at the table in front of the model of the opera house, hunched over something. Quietly, she walked over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. She was shocked when he leapt out of his chair, knocking her to the floor. She threw out her left hand to brake her fall. Big mistake.

"_Erik!"_ she cried when a searing pain shot up her arm from her wrist. Erik turned, horrified at his actions, and instantly dropped to his knees on the floor beside her.

"Oh, my God, Christine, I'm…I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"No, Erik. We've been married for four months. You've…" Christine started to scold, but stopped when she saw the tears in his eyes-- tears of…regret? She moved her arm to reach up and wipe them away, but another wave of pain raced up her arm. She whimpered, and Erik gently took her injured wrist in his hand and examined it carefully. He took his cloak from where it was hanging on the back of his chair, ripped a piece off the bottom, and tightly wrapped her wrist in it. They sat there on the floor in silence for a few minutes, until Erik stood and helped her to her feet. He pulled her into a tight embrace, and she stepped away after a moment.

"So…what were you working on?" Grinning, Erik turned to the desk he had been sitting at just moments ago, picked up a few pieces of stationary and handed them to her. There was silence in the lair – save the sound of the water gently lapping on the shore – as Christine read the five notes he had written: One to each of the new managers, one to Raoul, one to Carlotta, and one for all of them – though it began "Gentlemen…". After reading them, Christine nodded, smiling. "Wonderful, Erik," she said, handing the notes back to him, which he put in envelopes and sealed with his signature blood-red skull.

"Come, we must return. Those two fools who run our theatre will be missing you…And they'll want their instructions for the day." Christine grinned as she took the arm Erik offered – with her un-injured right arm – and he escorted her to the boat. She stood behind him as he rowed the boat **(A/N: "Row, row, row your boat…" Lol.)**, wrapping her right arm around his waist. As she buried her face into his shoulder and breathed in his scent, a thought crossed her mind.

"Erik," she said, lifting her head. "What'll we do when the baby arrives?" She heard him sigh.

"We can't really do anything until then, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, we'll think of something when the time comes. We're both smart enough to think on our feet." Christine giggled at that. "Just be careful for the next few months.

"I will. I promise." An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Erik hadn't said anything, but Christine knew what he was thinking. _'He's worried that the child will…favor its father.' _She thought. She gave his mid-section a slight squeeze, as if to comfort him without saying a word.

About half-an-hour later, Christine was being pushed into the door by Madame Giry. Christine could only catch snatches of what she was saying in her mothering toned voice.

"Should have told me…whole place in an uproar…" Christine wriggled under the covers. Mme. Giry turned toward the bed, and, despite her rant, smiled. She couldn't stay mad at Christine, no matter how hard she tried. Like the mother Christine had never had, Mme. Giry brushed a stray lock of hair out of the girl's face, kissed her forehead, and started for the door. Christine sat up in bed.

"Madame?" she said, timidly. Mme. Giry turned to look at her. "I…I think," she fumbled on the words. This wasn't nearly as easy as telling Erik had been. "I think…that I'm pregnant." The Madame's face paled and her eyes grew wide as she went back to Christine's bed-side.

"Are you certain?" Christine nodded. Mme. Giry seemed to think for a moment, and then said, "Well, just continue with your training until told otherwise," and with that, she hurried out the door. Christine waited a few minutes, and then scrambled out of bed. Although she loved and respected Mme. Giry, this was going to be one morning she could not miss. Sliding her feet into her slippers, she hurried out the door, down the hall, and to a second balcony that overlooked the entire parlor of the opera house. There, she met Erik, who was a bit angered by her appearance there.

"You honestly think I'd miss this?" she whispered to him. Erik sighed, but then gave her a smile and settled in on the ground beside her just as M. Firmin stormed in, his voiced raised in outrage, a newspaper in hand.

"_Mystery after gala night!_

_It says 'Mystery of Soprano's Flight'  
'Mystified!' all the papers say_

'_We are mystified, we suspect foul play'_

_Bad news on soprano scene_

_First Carlotta, now Christine_

_Still, at least, the seats get sold_

_Gossip's worth its wait in gold…_

Christine nearly gagged at the selfishness she heard in the man's voice. Could that have been why he still hadn't paid Erik? She had heard that they had amassed a fortune in the junk business. Didn't they have enough money that they could spare a few thousand francs? She was mulling this over, when a new voice caught her attention. She looked and saw that M. Andre had joined Firmin, and the two were now comparing letters. She watched as they each put their letters away, and thought about this new development.

"_Who would have the gall to send this?_

_Someone with a puerile brain"_

"_These are both signed 'O.G'"_

"_Who the Hell is he?"_

Christine watched in amusement as the light flickered on inside their heads.

"_Opera Ghost!"_

"_It's nothing short of shocking."_

"_He is mocking our position."_

"_In addition he wants money."_

"_What a funny apparition…"_

"_To expect a large retainer_

_Nothing plainer, he is clearly quite in--"_

"_Where is she?!"_

Christine glared at Raoul as she and Erik turned to see the Viscount coming up the stairs toward the two managers, a letter in his hand. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud as the three men seemed to argue about who had sent Raoul his note.

"_Monsieur, don't argue._

_Isn't this the letter you wrote?"_

"_And what is it that we're meant to have wrote?"_ Firmin shook his head and corrected himself, "Written," as Andre began reading the letter.

"'Do not fear for Miss Daae?

The Angel of Music has her under his wing.

Make no attempt to see her again.'"

"If you didn't write it, then who --?"

"_WHERE IS HE?!"_

Christine grimaced as Carlotta -- along with her shrill voice -- stormed into the room, Piangi and the rest of her entourage close behind. Christine was now shaking violently with suppressed giggles as Carlotta shoved her letter into Raoul's face, accusing him of writing and sending it. He denied it and opened the letter, reading its contents to the group.

"'Your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered.

Christine Daae…'"

Christine heard Carlotta repeat the name in an angry whisper, shaking her fist in the air.

"'… will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune should you attempt to take her place.'"

Carlotta growled and the two managers -- afraid of ensuing explosions -- jumped to make her feel better. They were interrupted by Madame Giry.

"_Ms. Daae has returned."_

"_I hope no worse for wear _

_As far as we're concerned."_

"_Where, precisely, is she now?"_

"_I thought it best she was alone."_

"_She needed rest."_

"_May I see her?"_

_"No, you may not,"_ Christine thought as Mme. Giry explained that she would see no one.

"_Will she sing?_

_Will she sing?"_

"_Here, I have a note."_

Everyone moved toward Mme. Giry, an arm outstretched, to take the note. Firmin reached her first, took the letter, and read.

"'Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature detailing how my theatre is to be run…'"

Christine heard Erik quietly recite the letter, his voice becoming louder until it drowned Firmin out.

"'…You have not followed my instructions. I shall give you one. Last. Chance."

All eyes were now on Erik, who was standing. They could not see Christine, however, as Erik had spread his cloak -- a new one from his vast collection -- so that it covered her completely.

"'_Christine Daae has returned to you_

_And I am anxious her career should progress_

_In the new production of Il Muto,_

_You will therefore cast **Carlotta** _

_As the pageboy_

_And put Ms. Daae in the role_

_Of countess…'"_

Christine smiled as she heard him say that.

"'…_The role which Ms. Daae plays_

_Calls for charm and appeal_

_The role of the pageboy_

_Is silent, which makes my casting_

_In a word, ideal.'"_

It took everything Christine had to keep from letting her giggles be heard. She could imagine the look of shock on Carlotta's face.

"'I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in Box 5, which _will_ be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, gentlemen," he said, bowing slightly, "your obedient servant…O.G.'"

As the rest of the lobby exploded in uproar, Christine and Erik slipped away quietly. While they raced through one of their many hidden passageways, Erik said to her, "You'd better get back to your bed. They'll probably be looking for you." Christine nodded, and, seconds later, the two of them spun into the room. Erik wrapped his arms around her waist and passionately kissed her as she put her arms around his neck. A sudden commotion -- the sounds of running feet and raised voices -- just outside the door was heard. They quickly pulled away and listened with bated breath as the sounds moved passed them. Breathing a sigh of relief, Erik gave Christine a parting embrace.

"Be careful, my love," he whispered in her ear. She nodded, and he gave her one last kiss before he stepped back into the passageway he had just emerged from and vanished. Christine stood there, smiling for several minutes, until she heard the church bell chime the hour.

_'6-o'clock,'_ she thought, turning back toward her bed. _'Don't want to be tired for the performance tonight.'_

**YAY!!! Chapter 3 est finito! Okay, so I only speak English fluently, so if I screwed that up -- whatever language it was -- don't sue me! **

**Get this…This chapter was originally much longer. When I got to the point where this chapter ends, I knew it was long enough. **

**Anyway, once again, thank you all so much for your patience. mutters under breath I hate school. Anyway, yeah…you know what to do, so do it! Or I won't update ever again! Ha-ha! I have to at least get reviews from the people who have reviewed for the last chapters. And I do know your names. More would be nice, but, if I just get those people, then, oh well.**


	4. Poor Fop He Makes Me Laugh

**Okay, guys. I am soooo sorry it has taken so long. I am in school dealing with College Prep Chem., AND Algebra II w/Trig, along with my regular Creative Writing class, and Driver's Ed, which, really isn't that bad, but, anyway, I digress. Add all of that together, and throw this in: I'm in _Bye-Bye Birdie_ at the local theater. When we started rehearsal, we only had 19 days to rehearse before we open. I don't know how many rehearsals we have left, but we open on February 1. And we don't rehearse on Sundays or Wednesdays. Church days/nights. So, yeah, we're under stress. I'll work on this as much as possible, but, I don't know how often I can update. Please, just be patient with me.  
****Also, as much as I have wanted to get this story finished, I have had all these ideas for one-shots, song fics, and even another multi-chapter fic. I want to get these up. I think I'll post the one-shots during the interim between chapters of this fic. But, you guys probably don't care about all that.  
****Disclaimer: WHY?!?! Why can't I own it?! WAH:'-(. Sadly, I do not own it.

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**Chapter 4:  
****Poor Fop. He Makes Me Laugh.**

"WHAT?!" Christine couldn't believe what Mme. Giry had just told her. "But, Erik –"  
"I'm well aware of what Erik said, Christine," Mme. Giry cut her off. "But I cannot overrule the managers' decision." Christine turned on her heel with an irritated huff.  
"To hell with the managers," she said as she stormed off to her dressing room. She stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, and blew out a puff of air. "Bugger," she muttered, running her fingers through her hair.  
"Get ready," she heard Erik's voice tell her. Christine grinned and slid the mirror open. There stood Erik, grinning back at her. He planted a swift kiss on her lips, before she pulled away and looked up at him, pouting her lips. He simply chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Don't worry, Christine. You _will_ get your limelight tonight. I promise." Judging by the glint in his eyes, Christine guessed he had something extra special up his sleeve for Carlotta.  
"Alright. I'll get ready," she said, planting her lips on his again. After a few moments, they pulled apart, and Erik went back into the tunnel, closing is entrance behind him. Christine quickly got dressed and returned to the stage, where everyone was gathered, waiting for the curtain to go up.

"_Poor fool, he makes me laugh!  
__Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha…"_

Hidden in the shadows above the theatre, Erik watched as Carlotta tried to sing. She was _not_ succeeding. After Piangi exited the stage, Erik stepped quietly onto a balcony that overlooked the entire theatre.

"Poor fool, he doesn't know  
_Oh-ho-ho-ho!  
__If he knew the truth  
__He'd never ever go!"_

"Did I not instruct that Box 5 was to be kept _empty_?!" he bellowed. Everyone gasped as they turned and saw the form of the interruption, standing menacingly above them. He saw Christine's mouth move as she whispered something to herself.  
"Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta snapped at her, before going offstage.  
"A toad, Madame?" Erik could not help but smirk at the irony. "Perhaps it is you who are the toad." Once Carlotta flounced back onto the stage, he quietly slipped out of the theatre, unnoticed. He heard the music start back up and Carlota began to attempt to sing again. He noted that she had backed up quite a bit from where she had left off.

"_Serafimo,  
__Away with this pretense  
__You cannot speak.  
__But, kiss me in my…"_

Carlotta took in a deep breath as what sounded like a frog's croak exploded into the air. The audience gasped in shock, and then began to giggle as Carlotta attempted to continue.

"_Poor fool,  
__he makes me laugh  
__Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha  
__Ah-ha…_

But it was no use. The theater fell into a noisy uproar as Carlotta ran from the stage, screaming for her mother. Erik could hear the clamor as he entered a passageway. Just beyond the door he had just come through, he heard a second door open and close, followed by what sounded like feet running up a set of stairs. Erik peeked out from behind the door just in time to see Joseph Buquet running up a set of stairs onto the catwalk. Erik grinned. Now he could make his point know to the managers; he was _not_ to be fooled with.  
Within minutes, a chase had ensued, high above the stage, where the dancers were performing the ballet from the third act. Erik soon caught up to Buquet and shook the plank he was on, causing him to lose his footing and fall to the wood on his stomach. Erik quickly moved over the man, and threw his Punjab around his neck. He pulled hard, making him choke. When Buquet lay still at last, Erik dropped his body so that it dangled over the stage, terrifying the dancers and the audience. After he had let it hang for a minute, he released the rope, allowing the corpse to drop to the stage. He stood for a moment, admiring his work, and then turned on his heel and headed back for the underground lair.

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Christine stood in her dressing room as Madame Giry tied the strings of the bodice on the Countess costume. When they heard screams from the stage, both looked up. Christine realized what was going on and touched Mme. Giry's shoulder.  
"Madame," she said in a hurried plea. "Monsieur La Vicomte will come looking for me. When he does, tell him I ran off to the roof of the Opera House. Please." Mme. Giry hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. Christine hugged her briefly and ran off through the tunnel hidden behind her mirror.

* * *

As Erik neared his underground home, he heard a familiar tune playing on the piano. He smiled as he saw Christine sitting at it, and he quietly moved to behind her, and began singing along to the tune._"Masquerade Paper faces on parade…"_

Without missing a beat, Christine sang with him as she continued playing.

_"Masquerade_  
_Hide your face so the world  
__Will never find you."_

Erik sat next to her and brought her into his lap. She laid her head against his chest as he stroked her hair and whispered in her ear.

"_Christine, I love you."_

She brought her head up and lightly brushed his lips with hers. He pulled her close to him and deepened the kiss. Christine sighed in contentment as he felt his hands glide down her body and come to rest on her thighs. After a few moments, she reluctantly pulled away.  
"Erik…" she said in a slightly warning tone, placing a hand on her stomach. Erik sighed, but brought his arms up to encircle her waist. He lifted his left hand to her face and gently stroked her cheek. They sat there in a contented silence for quite some time, before Erik put one arm beneath Christine's knees and another behind her back. He stood and lifted her close to him as he carefully made his way to the bed. Christine put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He gently laid her on the bed, and then crawled in beside her, covered them both with the blanket, and pulled Christine close to him. He kissed her forehead and, within minutes, felt her easy, rhythmic breathing. Within minutes, he, too, had fallen asleep.

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**Okay, okay, okay! I have a reader challenge. I think I'll do one of these each chapter. Okay. The challenge for chapter 4 is:**

**What is the following line from?  
"And now it's suppertime!"**

**Let me know what you think the answer is in your review! First person to review with the right answer will get a prize! Don't know what that prize is yet. More incentive for you to review. Bye!**


	5. Masquerade

**Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh!!! (smacks self across the face.) Okay, I'm better. Guess what? I got the chapter up faster! Yay!! Actually, when I posted Chapter 4, I immediately started working on this chapter. When I finished working that time, I had a little over half of it done. My time on this has been really good, considering that I have had rehearsal for _Bye-Bye Birdie_, which we open on Thursday, February 1st and closed on the 24th. Augh! Anyway… **

Since no one got the answer to the last challenge, no one gets the special surprise. But, the answer to the last challenge – "Where does the line, ' And now it's suppertime!' come from?" – was the musical _Little Shop of Horrors._

OK, so most of this scene is at the New Year's Ball. I think you'll like Christine's costume.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. But I will.

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**Chapter 5:  
****Masquerade**

Over the course of the next three months, Erik spent most of his time far beneath the opera house, working furiously on his Opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_, or, when he wasn't doing that, he would help Christine make their costumes for the upcoming Masquerade Ball on New Year's. They had spent several days sketching designs, and finally decided on two outfits.  
Meanwhile, Christine's stomach had grown a quite a bit larger as the weeks dragged by. They had agreed that it would be best if she "disappeared"from the above ground world at least until after she had given birth. She hated being cooped up, but knew that it was for the best.  
Finally, the night of the ball arrived. Erik was helping Christine pull her hair up the way they wanted as she embroidered a few last-minute details on the cape he would be wearing. When her hair was in place, Erik knelt behind her and slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. Christine lowered the material for a moment, and then sighed.  
"It's a little hard for me to finish if you hold onto me like that." Erik kissed her cheek, then stood and began fastening a belt to his waist. From the belt, a sheath dangled, which Erik slid an ornate sword into. He pulled on a mask, but lifted it up so that it rested on the top of his head. Christine stood and helped him fasten the cape to his shoulders before donning her own mask. Erik smiled and kissed her, and led her through a passage to the opera house.  
"Erik," Christine whispered as they snuck through the corridor. They could faintly hear music from the ball. "Do you realize how much of a scandal this will cause?"  
"Yes," Erik said, but nothing more. When they emerged, they were in a deserted hallway. The bulk of the masquerade was taking place in the grand foyer. Erik and Christine hid in the shadows where they could see the the celebration, but they themselves could not be seen. There, they waited for the opportune moment to make their entrance.

_Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads  
__Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you  
__Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds  
__Masquerade! _

"_Now_," Erik whispered to Christine. They moved to the top of the stairs that descended to the ball below. It took a moment for the masked faces to realize they were there

_Take your fill let the spectacle astound you…"_

Gasps filled the air as every head turned and stared in shock at the pair that had just seemed to appear from nowhere. A man in a blood-red suit and a long, flowing cape of the same color wore what appeared to be a scull's head for a mask. In one arm he carried what looked like multiple sheets of paper in a leather holder. On the other arm, he was escorting a young woman, and it was this woman and her costume which shocked them most. She wore a black dress that trailed the floor. The sleeves of the dressed flared over her small wrists, almost completely hiding her hands. The neckline dipped, but not low enough to show much cleavage. Her stomach was was what surprised them; it was larger than what was proprtionately normal. She also wore a cape, a black one. Her mask was white and covered only the right side of her face. The crowd stared at them in shocked silence while they sang as they made their way down the staircase.

"_Why so silent, good monsieurs?  
__Did you think that we had left you for good?  
__Have you missed us, good monsieurs?"_

Christine stopped singing.

"_I have written you an opera.  
__Here I bring the finished score:  
_Don Juan Triumphant!"

He threw down the portfolio and drew a sword from his side. Christine pulled out a noose and held it as they looked around at the crowd. They continued singing.

"_Fondest greetings to you all.  
__A few instructions  
__Just before rehearsal starts…"_

They turned to face Carlotta. Erik pointed his sword at her as Christine sang.

"_Carlotta must be taught to act  
__Not her normal trick  
__Of strutting 'round the stage."_

Carlotta gasped. Piangi started toward them, but was stopped by the sword poking his enormous stomach, and Erik picked up the song.

"_Our Don Juan must lose some weight.  
__It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age."_

The couple turned to the managers, and now they sang together.

"_And our managers must learn,  
__That their place is in an office!  
__Not the arts…"_

Erik re-sheathed his sword and turned to Christine as he sang to her.

"As for our star…  
_Miss Christine Daae…"_

The crowd gasped at the mention of the soprano as Christine locked eyes with Erik and stared at him.

_"No doubt she'll do her best  
__It's true her voice is good.  
__She knows, though,  
__Should she wish to excell  
__She has much still to learn  
__If pride will let her return to me  
__Her teacher…"_

He added in a low whisper that no one but they themselves could hear:

_"Her husband…"_

He took her hands in his, and they gazed at each other for a moment. Erik heard a noise several feet away, and turned his head. The Vicomte de Chagney was making his way toward them. Erik quickly pretended to be angry with Christine.

_"Your chains are still mine!"_

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

_"You belong to me!"_

He pulled her up against him and held her tightly as he stamped his foot on the floor. A hidden door suddenly gave way, and they dropped to a hidden room below. Erik quickly pushed Christine in the direction of the underground lair when he heard the Viscomte drop to the ground. He'd play a bit of cat and mouse with this pitiful boy.  
Erik totally screwed up the Vicomte's mind as he stepped into and out of the range of the mirrors, and Raoul swung his weapon at the many images of the Phantom. Seconds after a noose dropped from the ceiling, Madame Giry hurried in, took the Viscomte by the shoulder and steered him out of the room. When Erik was sure they were gone, he raced to meet Christine.

* * *

Raoul was panting as Madame Giry led away from that torture chamber. His mind was reeling. Christine had said she wasn't even going to the ball. But…she had! With that…that…monster!! And she didn't scream or anything. And - unless his eyes were worse than he thought- he could have sworn she was pregnant. Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure it out.  
"Madame Giry!" The older woman stopped and turned to look at him. "Please. What is going on?" For a brief second, a look of panic came over her face, but it was gone just as quickly. Raoul had caught it, though.  
"I know no more than anyone else."  
"Liar." Madame Giry looked shocked.  
"Even if I did know, I would not tell you…Monsieur!" The last word sounded a bit shirty. With an angry huff, Madame Giry turned on her heel and returned to the ball. Raoul was left standing in the middle of the corridor, more confused than ever.

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Christine slid out of her costume, groaning slightly. Her lower back was a bit sore. She needed to be more careful. Just as she pulled her night gown on, she felt Erik's arms wrap around her waist from behind. She sighed and leaned her head back against his shoulder.  
"Erik," she said, "We need to be more careful of what I do. My back is killing me." He squeezed her gently and kissed her cheek.  
"I'm sorry, Christine." They stood there for several minutes, until Christine remembered something.  
"Tomorrow's the anniversary of my father's death," she whispered, and, to Erik, sounded as if she would soon cry. "Do…you think…th-that we—"  
"Shh…" Erik silenced her, holding her closer. "Of course, Christine."

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**Whoo-hoo!! Awright! This one got done much quicker than the other ones. So, let me see…this weeks reader challenge…**

**What would happen if more than 25 of the air we breath was mde up of Oxygen?**

**This is a very funny answer. Again, you'll get a special prize. Don't ask me what it is, cause the best kind of prize is a _sur_-prise. (I love Johnny Depp)**

**Erik- I thought you loved me. **

**Me- Of course I do. (Glomps Erik)**

**Erik- Yay!**

**Both- REVIEW! **

**Me- Please and thank you.**


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